


Why Sherlock Hides Emotion

by RichardGraysonPercyJackson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drugged Sex, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-01 10:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18798799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichardGraysonPercyJackson/pseuds/RichardGraysonPercyJackson
Summary: Sherlock is arrested at only nine years old for no other reason.Or so he thinks.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While rewatching BBC's Sherlock, I noted in the first episode "The Study In Pink", how Sherlock refused to ride in the cop car with Lestrade to go to the crime scene.
> 
> The story was originally going to involve Sherlock's injury in the back of a police car which was going to be why but...I kinda got off topic.
> 
> So enjoy!!!

“Hands behind your head.”

Sherlock sighed quietly, doing as he was told and getting down on his knees, rolling his eyes when the officer from Scotland Yard began running his hands along Sherlock’s sides and arms, searching for weapons.

It was only when the touches seemed to linger that Sherlock finally realized something was off.

“Aren’t you just supposed to search for weapons?” the nine year old asked. “This is lasting a bit longer than it should, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” the man snapped, painfully gripping Sherlock’s wrists, bringing them down to the small of his back and clasping them tightly in a pair of handcuffs. “Get up!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes but did as he was told, letting the officer shove him into the back of the police car.

“God, Alexander is going to kill me,” he muttered as the door was slammed and the officer got in the front seat. Sherlock shifted, getting comfortable before speaking. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong!”

“I said, shut  _ up _ ,” the officer snarled as he turned the car on. “Or I’ll gag you.” he glanced at Sherlock in the rearview mirror, something glinting in his eyes. “Or would you like that, you kinky little shit?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow but otherwise said nothing. Not until he could get enough information on this guy. In all his years and all the conversations between Mycroft and mummy that he’d listened in on, he’d never heard of police officers arresting children for walking home from after-school activities.

After-school activities that Sherlock didn’t even want to be involved in.

So Sherlock stayed quiet. It wasn’t the first time he’d been arrested for absolutely no rational reason and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last. The only good thing was Mycroft hated him enough that he was obsessive about Sherlock’s location.

His brother would get him out soon enough.

 

……………….

 

It was about twenty minutes later, when the officer took a turn that wasn’t on the main road. When he pulled off onto a dirt road that Sherlock had never seen before, that Sherlock knew something was wrong.

“Excuse me?” he said. The officer didn’t look at him. “Where are we going?”

“Kid,” the officer snarled. “I will rip out your fucking tongue if you don’t shut the hell up!”

Sherlock wasn’t fazed. He’d been threatened with worse by his own brother. “This isn’t the road to the police station.”

The officer shook his head, chuckling softly as he pulled off the dirt road and turned off the car, getting out to open the door next to Sherlock, leaning on the car frame to stare down at the little nine year old boy.

“You’re a smart brat, you know that?” he told him. “What, do you know every street in London?”

“Not yet,” Sherlock replied honestly. “But I will.” he tilted his head to the side. “There’s something in your eyes. It’s different from other officers.”

“Oh?” the officer asked, a smile playing on his lips. “And what’s that?”

“Less innocent,” Sherlock replied without hesitation, without thought. “You want something. You want  _ me  _ for something.” he narrowed his eyes. “But something that has to be done outside of the watch of others.”

The officer chuckled fondly. “Yeah?” he asked in a gentle voice that raised the hairs on the back of Sherlock’s neck. “And what’s that?”

Sherlock’s reply was instant. “Murder.”

The officer shook his head, laughing loudly. “Oh, you’re cute,” he said, grinning down at Sherlock who was struggling to keep his expression neutral. He wasn’t like Mycroft. He always showed his emotion. Showed his rage, his happiness, his sorrow. 

Mycroft hated him for that.

“Then what else?” Sherlock demanded. “What else could there possibly be?”

The officer shook his head as he closed the back door again and got back in the car.

“You really don’t know?” he asked, pulling on his seatbelt while watching Sherlock in the rearview mirror. “I’ve heard a lot about you, William Holmes.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Have you?”

“A mum, a dad, a brother,” the officer recited as he turned back onto the dirt road and continued up the road, deep into heavy forest and higher mountain. “Your name is William Sherlock Scott Holmes. Your nine years old, attending primary school even though your IQ is far higher than those around you.” he grinned. “Am I wrong yet?”

Sherlock fought to ignore his raising heartbeat as fear raised up his spine. “You followed me.”

“No,” the officer replied, turning his gaze back to the road. 

Sherlock frowned. “Random chance?” the idea had never occurred to him. It was ridiculous. “But-”

“But what?” the officer asked with a gentle smile as he turned off the dirt road onto another, far more hidden road. “Did you really think you were special enough for someone to follow you, keep tabs on you?”

Sherlock swallowed thickly. “What are you going to do?” he was torn between feeling fear and anger. Anger because he didn’t know something and fear because he didn’t know something.

“First we’re going to get you nice and cozy,” the officer - though Sherlock was starting to suspect he wasn’t a real officer - started to explain. “Then we’ll see how things go from there. Kay?”

 

…………

 

Sherlock fought to keep his expression blank as they rolled to a stop in front of what looked to be some sort of abandoned farm.

“Now before we get in there,” the officer began - his ID read ‘Jamison’, Sherlock could finally see - as he got out of the car and opened up the back door once again, looming over Sherlock. “I gotta make sure you’re going to be a good boy and behave for me, okay?”

Sherlock narrowed his head, readying to throw himself head first at Jamison. “What are you going to do to me?”

For all his genius, Sherlock didn’t see the needle coming until it plunged into his neck and Jamison forcefully injected the contents into his bloodstream.

He backed up as Sherlock scrambled out of the back of the police car and fell to his knees, struggling up to his feet with his hands still cuffed behind his back.

“Well go on,” Jamison said, stepping back and gesturing to the wide open forest around them. “Take off running. I know you want to. Hell, start screaming your curly little head off if it’ll make you feel better. No one’s going to hear you.”

“So why?” Sherlock demanded. “Why let me run?”

“Because the drugs will take effect soon,” Jamison replied. “And it’s always more fun to watch them bite the dust as opposed to watch to fall gracefully to the ground.”

Sherlock’s eyes went wide slightly and he licked his lips. “I’m not the first.”

“Oh, no no no,” Jamison confirmed, shaking his head. “No, you’re…” he took a few moments to think. “The eighth, maybe?”

“Boys or girls?”

“Both,” Jamison replied. “Whatever suits my fancy. I choose to stay in the...nine to thirteen age range, so you’re more on the young side.”

“How many-” Sherlock had to swallow to dry his wet throat. “How many are still…”

“Alive?” Jamison guessed. “Not many. Three, maybe. The others made me angry so I killed them.” he smiled, leaning close to Sherlock to gently take the boy genius’s chin in his hand. “But you won’t make me angry, will you? You’re going to be good and listen to what I say, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Jamison whispered. “ _ Run _ .”

Sherlock ran.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention a few things.
> 
> A: I am American so I know legit nothing about England or anything other than what I've seen in Sherlock so I'm sorry
> 
> B: Sherlock and Mycroft are seven years apart? Seven or eight
> 
> C: This is also kind of why Sherlock and Mycroft took to calling themselves that. 
> 
> Enjoy

He couldn’t have been running for long before he went down hard, rolling over and over and over down a hill before finally coming to a painful stop at the base of a tree, cuffed hands crushed beneath him.

He groaned, world spinning until he closed his eyes tightly. His eyes flew open a moment later when he heard crunching footsteps nearby, coming closer with every step.

“Bravo, Mr. Holmes,” Jamison congratulated as he came forward, smiling. His smile widened when Sherlock struggled to stand only for his body to refuse to cooperate. “You got farther than the others.” he knelt down and stroked a hand over Sherlock’s leg, smiling when the nine year old went stiff. “You’ve got strong legs.”

“Get off of me,” Sherlock demanded, trying to force his body to cooperate as Jamison lifted him up and slung the child over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“When we get inside, you’re going to do what I say,” Jamison said calmly. “I’m going to test you and if you’re good, then I’ll get you all set up with the others, okay?”

“And if I’m not?” Sherlock demanded. “If I don’t listen? If I fight you?”

“Then you’ll die.”

 

…………..

 

It was only when he was cuffed to the bed, stripped and exposed, that Sherlock finally realized what Jamison was going to do to him.

Now he was terrified, trembling in fear. “Don’t,” he ordered, voice trembling as Jamison stripped down and climbed over him. “Don’t do this. My brother-”

“Isn’t here,” Jamison said calmly. “Do you recognize me now, William?”

“Alexander’s classmate,” Sherlock replied. “Jamison Walters.”

“You always were a genius, weren’t you?” Jamison murmured, stroking his hands up and down Sherlock’s side and causing goose bumps to grow on the younger’s arms. “Always telling me how  _ stupid _ I was. Walking in on Mikey and I, interrupting our studying sessions.”

“Of course.”

Jamison sneered, tightly gripping Sherlock’s arms until the small boy winced. “Mikey never stopped you. Just let you prattle on and on and  _ on  _ about how I was  _ wrong _ .” he grinned. “Now I’m going to show jim. I’ve taken the only thing he truly cared about, something that was far more important than even me, his  _ boyfriend _ . Now he’s lost his brother. With no trace. And he will turn to no one but  _ me _ .”

“Then clearly you know nothing of Mycroft,” Sherlock said calmly. “Alexander doesn’t need  _ anyone _ . He won’t lean on you. He’ll turn away from you.”

Jamison’s smile fell. “We’ll see about that.”

 

…………..

 

Sherlock’s chest was heaving, tears coating his cheeks and blood coating his thighs when Jamison finally pulled out and away.

“You screamed,” Jamison said matter of factly as he began dressing himself again. “That can be rectified. Easily. A gag. I’d rather not though.” he gave Sherlock a gentle smile. “I kind of liked it. Turned me on a little more. Screaming always does.”

“You told me you hadn’t followed me,” Sherlock said quietly.

“Oh I didn’t,” Jamison replied. “Didn’t have to.”

Sherlock swallowed thickly, throat sore. “Was this...planned? All those children you killed, you did to get to me?”

“I had to kill a lot first, kidnap a lot first, establish an MO,” Jamison explained as he unclipped the cuffs that kepet Sherlock’s bloody wrists tied to the headboard of the bed. He eased the nine year old into a seated position, smiling when he noted the drugs were still going strong. “Once I established that, no one would suspect your disappearance as anything other than an attack by the same serial killer.”

“So you’re going to kill me.”

“No,” Jamison replied. “I am going to  _ use  _ you, just like I just did, until you die.” he got close to Sherlock’s face. “You are never going home, William Holmes. For the rest of your life, however long or short that may be, it will just be you, me, and the rest of the children.” he shrugged. “Though I might kill them off so I can have you all to myself.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Sherlock declared.

“Oh, baby,” Jamison murmured. “I already have.”

 

………….

 

Sherlock didn’t know how long he’d been there, trapped and chained in a dark basement with children’s corpses slowly rotting around him.

It could have been days or weeks.

He was tired. His head hurt. His body hurt. The only person he ever saw was Jamison and the only thing he ever felt was pain.

He wasn’t restrained though. Not anymore. Jamison, at least, had finally fallen under the impression that Sherlock was going to stay put and not run away.

_ Foolish _ . Sherlock thought weakly. He was hungry, dehydrated. He couldn’t decide if Jamison was starving him on purpose to lead him to an early death or if he just wanted Sherlock to suffer through the rest of his life.

Sherlock had no doubt that if Jamison wanted to keep him alive for years, he could. He was struggling to keep his mind sharp, keep himself aware just long enough for Jamison to slip up so he could escape.

It was possible. Escape was possible.

It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts!!
> 
> One more chapter left of this horrible thing


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter

They were laying in bed together after another round. Jamison had fallen asleep.

Sherlock froze. Jamison had fallen asleep without taking Sherlock back downstairs. Careful, barely moving, Sherlock slid out of bed, freezing whenever Jamison shifted.

He found his clothes under the bed, pulling them on and wincing at the pain. Breathing heavily, he crept silently towards the door. He wanted to escape. To get out.

But that wasn’t going to work. By the time he got back to town, Jamison would be awake and long gone, likely would have even burned the farmhouse to the ground.

So he had no other choice. Reluctantly, he grabbed Jamison’s phone, dialing Mycroft’s number.

“ _ Jamison _ ?” Mycroft answered and Sherlock glanced towards the window. Night. It was the middle of the night. “What are you doing?”

“Alexander.”

Mycroft was silent. “ _ William. Where the hell have you been? _ ”

“Can you track this number?” Sherlock asked, creeping out of the bedroom and up the stairs to a guest room, hiding under the bed. 

“ _ Sherlock, what the hell is going on? _ ” Mycroft demanded.

“Are the police there?” Sherlock demanded. “There isn’t much time before-”

“William?!”

Mycroft had heard it. He knew that. “ _ Is that Jamison? _ ”

“Yes, keep up,” Sherlock demanded. 

“ _ Sherlock, what are you doing- _ ”

“He has kidnapped and assaulted me for the last several…” Sherlock groaned quietly. “I don’t know!” he swallowed thickly. “I’m scared, Alexander.”

“ _ The police are here _ ,” Mycroft assured. But Sherlock wasn’t listening. There were footsteps on the stairs. Jamison was getting closer. “ _ We know where you are and they’re on their way. Can you hold on, Sherlock? _ ”

“William,” Jamison called in a sort of sing-song voice. Sherlock could hear him creeping along the floor. He hadn’t entered the room Sherlock was hiding in, but there weren’t many rooms on the second floor. It was only a matter of time. “Come on, kiddo. Come out.”

Sherlock wanted to reply to Mycroft. To ask Mycroft to reassure him. But his brother had never been that kind of touchy-feely person. Not to mention, Jamison had slipped into the room. Reassured that the police knew where he was and were coming, Sherlock ended the call.

Just in time, because Jamison dropped to his knee and looked under the bed, a feral smile appearing on his face.

“Hello William.”

 

…………

 

Jamison was angry.

The was all Sherlock really knew as he was dragged from under the bed and beaten within an inch of his life.

Dimly he heard shouts downstairs but his world went spinning when Jamison dropped him. There were screams and shouts but all he saw was red and all he felt was pain.

He blacked out before he knew if Jamison was taken down.

 

…………..

 

“The bodies.”

Mycroft sat up, leaning towards his brother as Sherlock slowly peeled his eyes open.

“William?” he asked quietly. “Are you alright?”

“The  _ bodies _ ,” Sherlock repeated, rolling his head in Mycroft’s direction and weakly grasping the side rail of the bed. “In the basement. The bodies. The children. Seven.”

Mycroft scoffed. “You nearly die and you’re worried about others.”

“Did the police get the bodies?”

Mycroft sighed. “Yes,” he replied. “The bodies were recovered.”

“Jamison?”

“Arrested.”

Sherlock nodded, wincing. “Good,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “What time’s it?”

“One in the morning,” Mycroft replied. “About a week after they found you.”

“How long did he have me?”

“Two weeks.” Mycroft frowned. “Are you...alright?”

“Fine.” Sherlock looked over at him. “Why?”

Mycroft pressed his lips together. “You have always... _ cared _ , William.”

“Don’t.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Don’t?” he repeated.

“Don’t call me that.” Sherlock’s voice shook. “Don’t.”

“Don’t call you your name?” Mycroft repeated. “Then what the hell am I supposed to call you.”

Sherlock was quiet for a moment. “Sherlock,” he finally replied.

Mycroft scoffed, shaking his head. “Sherlock Holmes.” he glared at his brother. “That’s ridiculous. No one is going to call you Sherlock.”

“They will if I panic enough at the sound of my first name,” Sherlock declared.

Mycroft seethed before forcing his face into one of calm. “Very well,  _ Sherlock _ .” he shook his head. “If you demand to be called Sherlock then I’ll demand something in return.”

“What?”

“Call me Mycroft,” Mycroft replied. “If only around mum and dad. I need something to hold over them for the next several years.”

Sherlock gave a weak laugh. “Very well,  _ Mycroft _ . You’ve got yourself a deal.”

The two brothers sat in silence for a few moments until Mycroft spoke. “I’ll see what I can do to ensure Jamison receives the death penalty for this. If not that then prison for life.”

“You can’t do that,” Sherlock said with a small smile. “You're only seventeen.”

“Who gives a damn?” Mycroft demanded. “I shall occupy a minor position in the british Government one day.”

“A small position?” Sherlock asked. “You’ll be the british Government one day.”

“Oh hush,” Mycroft ordered with a small smile. The two were silent again until Mycroft cleared his throat and stood. “Recovery will be hard,  _ Sherlock _ .”

“I know. What of it?”

“I say this, only to help you on your path,” Mycroft sad. “Lock your emotions far away.”

Sherlock remained quiet. It was only when Mycroft was about to walk out the door that Sherlock spoke.

“Teach me.”

Mycroft hesitated. “Very well.”

He left without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally plan to write more Sherlock Fics and I swear they'll be nicer than this one...maybe
> 
> >:)
> 
> Let me know your thoughts below!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts!!!!


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